


Beyond the Sea

by Hawkeye_918



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M, mermaid au, starring merscout and fisherman sniper
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-03-09 06:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18911101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkeye_918/pseuds/Hawkeye_918
Summary: A chance meeting between two strangers on a beach turns into something much more meaningful.





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> "wow hawk I cant believe you're doing something for mermay!" you might say
> 
> well this kept getting pushed back and was supposed to be posted in march/april. whoops. I wanted to wait until my last story was complete before I got back into this one. enjoy!

The sun was bright, although not blindingly so that spring day when Mick went to the beach. 

****

While walking through the same area a few days prior, he had discovered a quiet, secluded alcove and had decided he would come back and make a day of it. So he brought a mini cooler with a six pack of beers and a couple sandwiches, and a beach towel to sit on. He slapped on some sunblock and got ready for some relaxation.

****

Mick had always been fascinated with the water, ever since he was a little kid. He had spent much of his childhood hanging around the little pond on his family’s property, enough to warrant some (mild) teasing from his mother. His father wasn’t nearly as understanding, but as long as Mick was doing his chores around the farm, well, he didn’t care what the boy did in his free time.

****

Exactly no one was surprised when Mick became a fisherman. He worked in some of the major rivers in the area for a while, but always found himself coming back to the ocean. There was something about it, the vastness and the mystery, that kept pulling him back. To be alone on his boat, reel in hand, staring off at the horizon where the blue of the sky blended into the blue of the ocean-- it was a kind of blissful and supremeless solitude. Nothing and no one around for miles. Just Mick and the sea.

****

He had been making a decent living sport fishing, and although it was a meager existence, it was enough for him. He occasionally supplemented his income by tracking the positions of sharks for researchers, and had written a few articles for minor fishing publications. Far from glamorous. 

****

Mick opened up a beer from the cooler and took a sip. It really hit the spot. This was the life. A cold beer, a nice view, and total isolation. He looked out at the rolling waves and felt a deep sense of calm.

****

At some point, Mick had fallen asleep, lying down on the towel, hat down over his face. 

****

Sudden shouting startled Mick awake. He bolted upright, his hat falling into his lap. Mick pulled out his knife and looked around for the source of the noise.

****

He caught sight of someone, from the neck up, floating in the water pretty far out. Whoever it was waved.

****

Mick had always been a light sleeper, and he didn’t like that someone had managed to get by him and swim all the way out there without waking him. It was odd. 

****

“Yeah, pal, you on the beach! Hey!”, the swimmer called.

****

“Wot?”, Mick shouted, hands cupped around his mouth.

****

“Lemme come over there, one sec!”, the other man shouted back, swimming towards the shore at a good clip. 

****

Mick stood up, and waited.

 

 

* * *

 

****

 

There’s an interesting thing about merfolk.

 

They possess the ability to turn into humans at will.

 

But the transformation process is pretty uncomfortable, and merfolk can only stay in human form for a maximum of a week at a time before they must revert to their true self. And during that time, it is critical that they remain extremely hydrated. Should a merperson attempt to go longer than a week without reverting, then the change back to their fish-tailed form will be forced and extremely painful.

 

Jeremy really liked it on the land. He always had. Once in a while, he’d go to the little mom-and-pop fish and chip stand on the edge of the harbor and chat up the customers while pretending to be one himself. He found humans pretty cool and he enjoyed talking with them. Humans generally got a little weirded out whenever he’d occasionally pause in the middle of a conversation to chug a whole glass of water, but that was about it.

 

Jeremy had enjoyed living in the harbor, he really had, but he had gotten restless. He wanted to see more of the world.

 

So he did. He informed his family of his intentions, and took off. His only real plan was to just start swimming, and go where the currents took him-- avoiding major shipping lanes, of course.

 

How in the fresh hell Jeremy had found himself off the coast of Australia, well, he didn’t know. But if his goal was to get as far away from home as possible, mission accomplished. 

 

Jeremy had been away from the harbor he called home for about a year, and hadn’t seen another human(oid) in weeks. So when he saw the form of a sleeping man on the beach, he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face.

 

He had decided immediately that he was going to transform so he could go talk to this guy. There was sort of a problem, though. Ordinarily, Jeremy kept this satchel with him, and in it he had some of his possessions as well as a set of clothes in a ziploc bag. But somewhere in the last fifty or so miles, he’d lost the satchel. It was a shame, but there was nothing he could do about it.

 

Jeremy swam about ten feet down, deep enough to hide, but not so deep that he’d be unable to resurface later with his crappy human lungs.

 

_ It’s showtime _ , he thought.

 

He took a deep breath and focused. 

 

Jeremy could feel his heartbeat quickening and a warm buzzing sensation spreading through his body. His blood ran hotter through his veins. The webbing between his fingers disappeared first, then his gills. Then his silver-scaled tail was replaced by a pair of legs.

 

There was a flash underwater, of bright, yellow-white light, which was followed by a sharp pain in his chest.

 

Jeremy surfaced, and gasped loudly as his lungs filled with air. 

 

As soon as he adjusted to the air, he shouted to the man onshore.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

That bloke was nearly at the shore before Mick knew it. 

 

“How’s it goin’, man?”, he said, getting out of the water. He gave Mick a onceover and grinned. “Well,  _ hellooo _ handsome!”

 

Mick took one look at him and his breath caught in his throat.  _ Holy-- he’s naked! _ , Mick thought, reddening and clamping a hand over his face before looking away.

 

The young man was standing before him now, attempting to meet his gaze. “Everythin’ okay, fella?” He asked, puzzled.

 

“You lost your trunks, mate.” Mick muttered, bending down to get his beach towel. He tossed it to the other man. 

 

“Oh”, he said, neither surprised nor bashful. The naked man seemed to take the hint, and wrapped the towel around his hips.

 

Mick sat back down on the sand, and patted the space next to him. The other man sat down as well. 

 

“The name’s Mick”, he said, extending a hand.

 

“Jeremy”, the other replied, shaking his hand.

 

“So what the bloody hell are you doin’ swimming naked in the middle of nowhere? It’s nearly stinger season.”

 

“Stinger season?” Jeremy asked, leaning forward. His hair was still wet, and droplets of seawater clung to his body. 

 

“Yeah, mate, stinger season. Water gets chock full of jellyfish.”

 

Jeremy just nodded.

 

Jellyfish weren’t usually a problem for Jeremy, the skin of merfolk is pretty sting-resistant. And jellyfish didn’t make for bad eating, either. 

 

“Seriously though, where did you come from?” Mick asked, gazing intently at Jeremy.

 

“Oh, uh, Boston. Massachusetts.” Jeremy said.  _ About three miles off the coast of Boston if you wanna get technical _ , the voice in the back of his head supplied. “But if you mean what I was doin’ out in the ocean? I, uh, fell off this uh… tourist boat thing.” He lied, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

 

Mick regarded him suspiciously. “Didn’t hear a boat engine or nothin’. You must’ve been pretty far out, then, eh?”

 

Jeremy nodded again. “Yeah, totally. I was just, y’know, swimmin’ back to shore-- dunno how long I was in the water, though-- and here I am. We really are in the middle of nowhere, huh?”

 

“Day’s drive to the nearest town.” Mick said, reaching into the cooler for a beer to hand his guest. “I’m assumin’ your personal effects were all on that boat.”

 

Jeremy took the beer and opened it up. He hadn’t had beer before, but, boy, was he thirsty. “Right again, pal. Wallet, passport, all that.” He took a drink of the beer. Huh. Weird, but not bad. He took another drink.

 

“What’re you gonna do-- can’t hardly go home.” 

 

“Hell if I know”, Jeremy said quietly, staring out at the ocean.

 

They both looked out at the rolling of the waves for some time. 

 

Silence reigned.

 

After a while, Mick could feel Jeremy watching him. He turned back to look at him, puzzled. Jeremy’s eyes were wide and curious. And so, so blue.

 

Mick sighed. “Look, Jeremy, here’s what I’ll do. If you’d like, I can drive you to the nearest town. You can find a payphone, call your folks, and work something out.”

 

“Really?” Jeremy asked, eyes aglitter, placing his hands on Mick’s shoulders. He didn’t need to call anyone, obviously, he was just excited to spend time with this good-looking human guy.

 

Mick tried not to flinch under the sudden touch.  “Uh, sure”, he said, carefully removing Jeremy’s hands. They’d only just met. Were all Americans this handsy, or was it just this guy?

 

“Let’s get a move on, then, yeah?” Mick said, picking up his cooler and leading the way to the roadside where he was parked. Jeremy followed close behind, using a hand to keep his towel from falling down. 

 

Mick’s camper was parked a good quarter-mile away, and after walking across the hot sand for a few minutes, it occured to Mick that Jeremy’s bare feet were probably burning. He turned to check on Jeremy, and indeed the other man’s expression looked pained.

 

Mick winced sympathetically. He reached out and gently grabbed Jeremy by the wrist to pull him along a little faster, to lessen the amount of time he’d have to suffer the heat. “Sorry about this”, he mumbled, referring to the scorching sand. Jeremy grinned again, flashing his pearly whites. 

“ ‘s fine by me.”

 

Mick turned his gaze back to the path ahead, but rolled his eyes goodnaturedly. “This is some way for your vacation to end up, yeah?” He asked, an attempt at humor.

 

“Honestly? One of the better trips I’ve been on. I got to meet you though, you seem like a real cool guy.”

 

Mick stifled a laugh. “You’re an interesting one, you are.”

 

“So, Mick, you on vacation too?” Jeremy asked.

 

“Naw, mate. Just taking a day off.” He paused. “I’m a fisherman.”

 

“Heeey, that’s wicked neat. But why’d you go to the beach, though? Ain’t that like goin’ into the office on a Saturday?”

 

Mick did laugh at that. “Not for me. I love my job, wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

 

The atmosphere was quiet yet amiable for the remainder of the trek.

 

They made it to the camper, and sure enough, there was a smallish red and white motorboat hitched to the back of it.

 

Jeremy let out a low whistle. “Pretty neat set-up you got here”, he said appraisingly.

 

“ ‘s just temporary, I’m always on the move”, Mick said, unlocking the door to the camper and leading the way inside, “come in and make yourself comfortable.”

 

Mick put the cooler down on the table, next to his typewriter, and immediately began rifling through his dresser. Meanwhile, Jeremy wandered around the limited space inside the camper.

 

“Have y’got any blisters?” Mick asked, not looking away from what he was doing.

 

Jeremy looked down at his feet, checking for blisters just as much as observing the novelty of having feet at all. He wiggled his toes. “Nah, think I’m good”, he said, looking up. 

 

Mick produced three articles of folded clothing and attempted to hand them to Jeremy, who just cocked his head to the side and regarded him curiously. 

 

Mick cleared his throat. “Can’t be comfortable sittin’ ‘round in a wet towel, and I don’t want yer bare arse on me seats.” 

 

Jeremy took the clothes, and with a cheeky grin, he picked up the piece of clothing at the top of the little pile and held it aloft-- a pair of boxers. “Don’t want me goin’ commando, huh?”

 

Mick hid his face in his hands. “Please don’t make this any weirder than it is. Just go get dressed”, he mumbled.

 

Jeremy shrugged and started to remove the towel that covered his lower half.

 

Mick sputtered, embarrassed, “In the  _ bathroom _ , ya bloomin’ nutcase!”. He pointed the way.

 

Jeremy laughed and fixed the towel. “If that’s what you want, then.” He smiled back at Mick over his shoulder before disappearing into the bathroom. 

 

Mick flopped back onto his couch and sighed. All he’d wanted was a relaxing day at the beach, and now he had an (admittedly attractive) shameless, flirt of a young man to shuttle into town. On one hand, he was in disbelief he’d even made the offer in the first place, but on the other, he knew he couldn’t leave a guy naked, in the middle of nowhere, in a foreign country. 

 

And the more Mick thought about Jeremy’s story, the less it made sense to him. The nearest ports where a tour boat might leave were pretty damn far away, it was unreasonable to think that one would come anywhere near the beach where he was. And who would bring their luggage on a tour-- what kind of  _ Gilligan’s Island _ bullcrap was that? And shouldn’t--

 

“Whaddaya think?” Jeremy asked, emerging from the bathroom. He wore a t-shirt of Mick’s and a pair of his Bermuda shorts. Both were kinda baggy, but they stayed on him, at least. 

 

Mick decided to quell his suspicions for the time being, he could bring them up later. After all, everyone has something to hide. 

 

“Y’look fine.” Mick said, pretending he didn’t think Jeremy looked really cute wearing his oversized clothes.

 

Hospitality wasn’t exactly Mick’s strong suit, but he figured he could give it a go. He opened up the mini cooler on the table and took out the two sandwiches. “You hungry?” Mick asked, picking one up and taking a bite out of it.

 

“I’m starving!” Jeremy declared, lunging forward to grab the other sandwich. Without thinking, he took a big bite. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he found it to be very much to his liking.

 

“This is frickin’ good!” Jeremy said excitedly through a mouthful of sandwich. “What is it?”

 

Mick raised an eyebrow and looked at him like he had three heads. “It’s… it’s just ham and cheese, mate.”

  
“Huh. Ham and cheese”, Jeremy repeated softly to himself, taking another big bite.

 

Mick didn’t know how to respond to that, so he stayed quiet for a minute. He just finished his sandwich.

 

“We’d better get moving soon.” He said, packing up the typewriter and beginning to batten down anything that had a risk of moving around during the drive. He hadn’t felt like writing anything in ages, but still always unpacked the typewriter whenever he moved out somewhere new. 

 

They left the camper and Mick double checked that his boat was hitched up securely before sliding into the driver’s seat while Jeremy climbed in on the passenger’s side. Jeremy had honestly never been in a vehicle before, and he trembled with excitement. He’d seen enough cars and trucks drive by the beach back home and knew how they worked and all that, he’d just never had the chance to be in one.

 

Mick found out very quickly that Jeremy liked to talk. A lot. And that wasn’t unpleasant, he had a lot of interesting things to say and asked a bunch of questions about where they were going-- a medium sized town almost twenty hours away. Jeremy asked about some of the flora and fauna they saw through the windows as they moved past, and if Mick knew the answer, he gave it.

 

It was an interesting and refreshing experience for the both of them, to talk with someone actually interested in what they had to say.

 

And there was something oddly… magnetic... about Jeremy that made Mick feel at ease, but the nagging doubts wouldn’t leave him be. He had to air out his suspicions. So he fielded all his questions to Jeremy concerning how he got to Australia and everything that happened since. Jeremy either gave weak answers or deflected the questions entirely. It was frustrating.

 

After a few hours, the conversation died out and silence ensued. Mick turned the radio on low for some background noise to drown out his thoughts. It took some scanning to find a signal, a con of being out in the boonies. There was one station that could be received with any degree of clarity, and it was playing a boppy tune that took Mick a second to recognize, but when he did, he whistled along idly.

 

The voice on the radio sang,  _ “Whenever he calls my name/ Soft, low, sweet and plain/ Right then/ Right there/ I feel that burning flame.” _

 

Jeremy picked up on the beat fairly quickly and started snapping to the rhythm. Jeremy liked human music a lot-- the singing, the instruments. The music of merfolk was basically sonorous chanting only good for luring sailors to their deaths. Needless to say, no record sales for that. 

 

As annoyed as he might’ve been at Jeremy’s seeming refusal to answer any of his questions, Mick was hard pressed not to smile. 

 

But out of his peripheral vision, Mick could feel Jeremy looking at him at him again, in that openly honest and curious way. 

 

“Hey.” Jeremy said, scooching just a bit closer in his seat

 

“Hm?” Mick responded, eyes flickering over for just a second.

 

“Where’d you get that cool scar? If you don’t mind me askin’.”

 

Mick chuckled. He had plenty of scars, each one an interesting story-- but had no one to tell those stories to. He relished the opportunity. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, mate.”

 

“Uh, this one-- right here”, Jeremy said. And then he leaned over and ghosted his hand just over Mick’s left knee, leaving goosebumps on the other man’s skin.

 

Mick nearly swerved off the road. 

“You’ve got to warn a bloke before you do that”, Mick said, laughing nervously, in spite of himself.

 

Jeremy flushed, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

 

“Just caught me off guard, is all.”

 

A minute or two of awkward silence. 

 

Mick cleared his throat. “The, er, scar. It’s a shark bite.”

 

Jeremy’s face lit up with wonder. “No kiddin’?”

 

Mick nodded. “No kiddin’. I was about fourteen, went fishing on the ocean for the first time and reeled in a young reef shark. I was takin’ the hook out of his mouth and my nerves got the best of me, and I dropped him. Tried to pick him up again but he thrashed around and slipped out of my hands-- he caught me in the leg on his way down, and latched on. He didn’t get any arteries or anything, though.”

 

Jeremy frowned. “I’m real sorry that happened, man.”

 

Mick shrugged his shoulders a bit, as much as he could without letting go of the wheel. “It is what it is. I jammed me thumb in his gills and got him to let go, took the hook out proper, then put him back in the water. There’s about a hundred and seventy species of shark around here-- maybe only three will attack a person on purpose.”

 

Jeremy looked at the scar itself again, a jagged area of indented flesh maybe six inches or so long. 

 

“Y’know”, Jeremy began, gazing out the windshield at nothing in particular, “a lot of folks say you gotta try to poke the shark in the eye, but nah, you gotta go for the gills. You did the right thing. Puttin’ your hand in the gills stops the head from movin’ around ‘sides makin’ it hard for ‘em to breathe.”

 

“That’s something to keep in mind, then, I reckon.” Mick said, going to pull into a gas station. It was the first one they’d passed in hours, and the camper was effectively running on fumes. 

 

“How’d you know that, though?” Mick asked, curious. 

 

Jeremy thought for a second. “Uh, great whites are always hangin’ out off Cape Cod and the islands in the summer, and my Ma always wanted us to be extra safe.” It was probably the first totally true thing he’d said all day. 

 

“So do you go to the beach a lot, then?” Mick asked, getting out of the cab of the camper.

 

“Yeah. You could say I live there, even.” Scout said with a laugh.

 

“Then I suppose that’s something we have in common.” Mick replied with a smile.

 

Jeremy’s heart flip-flopped in his chest. “I guess you’re right.”

 

After filling up the gas tank, Mick went inside the little building to pay. It was a podunk gas station if there ever was one. The building had but one room, with nothing save for a counter with a cash register on it. There was no attendant to be found. 

 

Bizarre.

 

Mick left the money on the counter.

 

He returned to the camper to find Jeremy dozing, his feet up on the dashboard. He had a killer headache from a combination of a lack of hydration and the heat of the sun. He was going to need a lot of water, and soon.

 

“You ready?” Mick asked, turning the key in the ignition.

 

Jeremy nodded. “As I’ll ever be!” 

 

He hoped his smile adequately disguised his discomfort.

 

Ready or not, the next phase of their journey was about to begin.


	2. Fishing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy and Mick get to know each other a little better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up over a month after the first chapter with coffee and doughnuts*  
> i'm sorry this took so long,, work has been draining,,, but here's the update! sorry it's a little long. I hope you enjoy!

“Have ya got anythin’ to drink?” Jeremy asked, feeling quite at home digging through the camper’s cabinets.

****

Mick raised an eyebrow. “There’s a gallon of water on the counter, if you want a glass.”

Mick would’ve been content to drive for another few hours, but Jeremy had seemed rather antsy and insistent that they stop for the night.

****

Although Jeremy hadn’t voiced this, his minor headache had intensified into an unrelenting migraine. He was starting to think the difference in pressure between being underwater and land was affecting him, too.

****

Mick turned his back for just a fraction of a second to find Jeremy chugging the gallon of water. Mick was equal parts amazed and terrified when he finished the whole gallon jug in maybe four seconds flat.

****

Jeremy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and set the empty plastic jug back down on the counter. “Thanks, man, have you got any more?” He asked, head cocked.

****

“Erm, yeah. In the bottom cabinet.” Mick said, still staring at Jeremy.

****

He was hard pressed not to let his jaw drop when Jeremy repeated the feat.

****

“Well, dehydration ain’t gonna be a problem for you, mate.” Mick joked, moving past him to rummage through an upper cabinet. He found what he was looking for-- two cans of chicken noodle soup. It was entirely too hot outside for soup to be enjoyable, but Mick had stocked up plenty of cans-- the cheap price and extended shelf life appealed to him greatly, even if he was so beyond tired of it.

****

There were two more gallon jugs in the lower cabinet, and though Jeremy was tempted, he figured it would be rude to drink those, too. He stooped down to close the cabinet door. And whacked his head on the edge of the counter.

****

Sitting on the floor of the camper, he exhaled sharply through clenched teeth and held a hand to his head. He pulled back his hand to check-- no blood.

****

“You okay?” Mick asked, standing over him and extending a hand to help him up.

****

The concern and worry in Mick’s expression captivated Jeremy.

****

He stared up at him for a moment, dreamy-eyed. “Of course.” Jeremy said, gratefully accepting the hand up. Mick’s hands were warm, and Jeremy begrudgingly let go once he was standing.

****

The way Jeremy was looking at him made Mick blush. “That’s good, then.” He said, looking away.

****

A beat of silence.

****

“Maybe you better have a seat.” Mick said, gesturing to the little couch.

****

“You’re probably right.” Jeremy agreed, and sat down.

****

Mick fired up the stove and got right to making dinner.

****

“So you know how to cook, huh?” Jeremy asked, reclining on the couch, head propped up on his hand.

****

“Don’t know about that. But I know how to heat stuff up on the stove and that’s good enough, I reckon.” Mick replied.

****

“See, this is where I make a joke with some pick-up line, like, ‘what’s cookin’, good lookin’.” Jeremy spread out so he took up the entirety of the couch.

****

Mick stifled a laugh. He was not gonna let himself get charmed by this guy. No way. “And this is where I say that _all_ that’s cookin’ is the soup.” Mick said with a smile he couldn’t fight.

****

Jeremy grinned.

****

The conversation flowed freely over dinner.

****

“Exactly where are we goin’, though?” Jeremy asked, mouth full of chicken noodle soup.

****

“There’s this little town called Silver Valley. It’s the nearest place that’ll have a phone, besides having the supplies I need.” Mick said.

****

Jeremy nodded, twirling noodles around his fork. He could really get used to human food.

****

“You _do_ have family, right? Folks you can call, at least?” Mick asked tentatively, looking up from his bowl.

****

Jeremy bit his lip. “I got family all along the coast.” Not a lie, technically. He didn’t know a single phone number, which was just as well, because no one in his family had access to a phone. He wasn’t even entirely certain he knew how to use a telephone, what with those weird rotary dials and all.

****

“Good. We’ll be in town by tomorrow afternoon.” Mick said with a smile, clearing away their dishes.

****

When it was time for bed, Mick grabbed a spare pillow and blanket from his bed and handed them to Jeremy.

****

“You can have the couch, it doesn’t pull out though, I’m afraid. There ought to be a spare toothbrush in the medicine cabinet.” Mick said, his back turned away as he dug around in his dresser for clothes that could possibly pass for pajamas.

****

“So can I climb into bed with you if I get scared in the middle of the night?” Jeremy asked, batting his eyelashes.

****

Mick felt his face heat up. “Absolutely not”, he deadpanned.

****

Jeremy moved closer, walking his fingers up Mick’s bicep. “Are you sure?” He asked cheekily.

****

Mick gulped. “Positive.”

****

“Okay, then.” Jeremy pouted but relented, and ducked into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

****

Mick took the opportunity to put on his pajamas while Jeremy was otherwise occupied.

****

After Mick had his turn in the bathroom, he came back to the main living area of the camper to find Jeremy asleep on the couch, out cold.

****

As he climbed up the little ladder to get into bed, Mick wondered for about the dozenth time in the last two hours exactly what the hell he had gotten himself into.

****

He settled into bed, but craned his neck to look down at Jeremy. Mick loathed strangers, but now one was sleeping ten feet away from him.

****

Perhaps they weren’t _strangers_ at this point, they had certainly spent enough time talking to be acquaintances… or kinda friends, maybe? You couldn’t very well be strangers with someone after sitting next to them in a confined space for such an extended period of time.

****

They had things in common, at least. They were both knowledgeable about the natural world, they both liked to tell stories, and they both enjoyed some of the same songs on the radio.

****

Jeremy was funny and interesting and a little odd, but Mick genuinely enjoyed his company in a way that couldn’t be said for a lot of the people he had known.

****

And yeah, maybe he was attracted to Jeremy a bit, too.

 

Ah, piss.

****

Mick held his hands over his face and groaned.

****

This was gonna be a long trip.

 

* * *

 

  
  


  


“Rise and shine, sleepyhead. Let’s get up and at ‘em!”

 

Mick, bleary eyed and sporting an impressive bedhead, attempted to locate the source of the offendingly cheerful greeting.

 

Jeremy was halfway up the ladder, beaming brightly, and dressed in a different set of Mick’s clothing.

 

Mick withdrew his arm from under the blanket and looked at his watch. Six thirty-three a.m.

 

“Mate…” Mick complained, voice rough with sleep, “it’s too damn early for this.”

 

He flopped his head back down onto his pillow.

 

“Oh, no you don’t. C’mon, buddy.” Jeremy grabbed Mick’s wrist and forearm and pulled him upright.

 

Mick gave him a sour look in response.

 

“Fine.” He grumbled half-heartedly, shooing Jeremy down the ladder before climbing down himself.

 

A morning person Mick certainly was not.

 

But later, with breakfast in their bellies (and a few cups of coffee for Mick-- Jeremy had tried a sip and realized maybe he didn’t like all human food after all), they went out on the open road again.

 

Jeremy put his feet up on the dashboard and crossed his ankles.

 

Mick noticed it was an old pair of his own flip-flops that Jeremy was wearing. They were entirely too big, almost comically so.

 

Mick couldn’t even be mad, he had sort of been wondering how they’d solve Jeremy’s (lack of) footwear problem.

 

They drove through the morning and gradually learned more and more about each other through the easy conversation and banter that they shared.

 

There was the distinct feeling that something was… off. Mick was a reserved person in general, but Jeremy was clearly not. The amount of time he’d start a story, then pause abruptly and go off on an unrelated tangent was rather worrying. Mick had tried asking about the sudden subject changes, but Jeremy would just become even more evasive.

 

Jeremy spoke vaguely and did not elaborate about much of anything, and the curiosity about what Jeremy could possibly have to hide was eating at Mick.

 

They arrived in the town of Silver Valley shortly before noon.

 

It might have been in a valley, but there was nothing silver about the town.

 

Hell, it was hardly even a town, just a thoroughfare with a dozen shops on either side and a few houses sprinkled on the hills towards the horizon. Scraggly-looking bushes and other foliage dotted the landscape, defiantly poking up from the dry red soil. The midday heat was oppressive, and as a result, there wasn’t another soul on the street.

 

Mick parked by the general store, a small building with weathered wooden siding. He sauntered inside, then held the door open for Jeremy to follow.

 

It was maybe only three degrees cooler inside the store, but significantly stuffier than the outside. The old, rusted ceiling fan groaned and squeaked as it spun, only serving to cycle the stifling air around rather than actually cool it. The walls were lined with every kind of provision, from toiletries to canned goods to hunting supplies, and everything in between. There was a ladder that lead to a loft, where even more inventory sat under tarps.  

 

Sitting in a folding chair at the counter was a greasy-looking thin man in his fifties, clad in a sweat stained tank top. He puffed on a cigarillo.

 

The man grinned when he saw the duo walk in.

 

“Mick, you old bastard! How the hell are you?” He said loudly, slapping the counter.

 

“G’day, Dave.” Mick said with a polite nod.

“Here for your little shoppin’ trip, eh?” Dave asked rhetorically, getting up from his seat. As if there’d be any other reason for Mick to blow into town. “I’ve got your stuff in the back room.”

 

He vanished into the back room and returned a moment later, hefting a large crate. He dropped it on the counter with a loud _thud_. “Gonna put this on the tab?”

 

Mick nodded.

 

“See you in a month or two, then, huh?” Dave asked, another rhetorical question.

 

“Well, actually… mind if my mate here uses your phone?” Mick asked, jerking his thumb in Jeremy’s general direction.

 

Dave did a double take, as though he hadn’t noticed Jeremy until that moment. “You’ve got a friend? Mick, the sparklin’ conversationalist?” He laughed in disbelief.

 

Jeremy stepped in front of Mick defensively, and opened his mouth to say something.

 

“It’s okay, ’s just how he is.” Mick murmured just loud enough for Jeremy to hear.

 

Jeremy backed off.

 

“Yeah, the phone’s on the wall in the back room. It ain’t gonna be a long distance call, is it?” Dave asked, eyeing Jeremy warily. Small towns not taking kindly to strangers, and all that.

 

“Nope.” Jeremy said with a smile.

 

“Knock yourself out.” Dave replied, gesturing to the back room.

 

Jeremy looked questioningly at Mick, but Mick waved him off.

 

Jeremy walked into the back room and found himself face to face with the telephone. He experimentally picked up the receiver. A little card taped to the wall gave the number to dial for the operator. He gave it a shot.

 

“Uh, hello?” Jeremy asked into the phone.

 

“Operator, how may I direct your call?” Responded the voice of a young woman.

 

“Oh, uh…” Jeremy stalled. He hadn’t expected to get this far.

 

“Were you plannin’ on makin’ a call, sir?” The operator asked.

 

“Yeah. But honestly, I don’t got nobody to talk to.” Jeremy admitted.

 

“You’re lucky this is a rural switchboard, otherwise I’d be on ya for wastin’ my time.” She replied, a touch annoyed.

 

“Does that mean you got a sec to talk, then?” Jeremy asked, hopeful for a conversation that might kill a few minutes.

 

“Absolutely not. Please dial again when you’re ready to make a call.” The operator said, and then she hung up.

 

Jeremy put the receiver back on the hook.

 

He had some time to waste.

 

He sat on a crate and spent fifteen or so minutes just chilling, hoping that was a reasonable amount of time to have placed a call to the other side of the planet and hold a conversation.

 

When he felt enough time had past, Jeremy went back into the main area of the store.

 

“All set?” Dave asked.

 

“Yep. Thanks.” Jeremy said, hurrying out of the store.

 

Mick followed behind, struggling just a bit with the supply crate.

 

“D’you need a hand with that?” Jeremy asked.

 

“Nah.” Mick replied, shoving the crate into the camper and securing it.

 

“So how’d the phone call go?” Mick asked, climbing into the driver’s seat.

 

“Eh, it went alright. So is that store guy your friend or somethin’?” Jeremy asked in turn, getting in on the passenger’s side.

 

“Not even sort of. Now don’t change the subject. Who’d you call, and what’s the plan?” Mick turned to look at him, expression serious.

 

Jeremy sighed. It looked like time for another lie.

 

He really did not want to make this a habit. But his options were severely limited. He really liked Mick and wanted to keep hanging out with him, but he had no desire to keep up the dishonesty.

 

“... I, uh, I called my Ma. We talked things over, and she doesn’t know what I can do, I don’t know what I can do. It’s a lot to process, y’know?” Jeremy scratched his neck and looked away.

 

“Couldn’t get through to the embassy?” Mick asked, curious.

 

Jeremy shook his head. “Got no real way to prove I’m an American citizen.” A truth, in its own way. As a nonhuman and resident of the actual literal ocean, his birth had never been recorded.

 

Mick turned onto the road out of town.

 

He was quiet for a while.

 

Jeremy had been considering asking if everything was alright, when Mick spoke.

 

“Y’know-- erm, this might be a bit much, but… you could stay with me-- if you wanted to, that is-- until you figure out what you’re gonna do next.” Mick said, hoping the sweat on his brow could be passed off as a side effect of the heat.

 

A wide smile lit up Jeremy’s face. “Oh, I’d like that.”

 

A pause. Jeremy’s face fell a bit.

 

“I feel kinda bad, though, you’ve done a lot to help me and I don’t know what I can do to pay you back.”

 

Mick mulled things over for a beat. “Well, d’you know how to fish?”

 

“Yeah.” Jeremy said with a nod.

 

“Then that’ll help.” Mick replied simply.

 

Two hours later, they were at a different remote beach. They hadn’t strayed too far from the coastline during the duration of their little road trip.

 

“Need anythin’ before we get out there?” Mick asked.

 

“Yeah, one sec.” Jeremy said, pulling a jug of water from behind his seat and chugging half of it.

 

Mick wasn’t entirely sure when Jeremy had stashed it there, but it was sort of humorous. Good thing he’d gotten plenty more water with his supplies earlier.

 

It took some doing for Mick to back the camper and the trailer onto the sand, and it was a downright pain in the ass getting the boat down from the trailer and into the water.

After some cursing and more than a little frustration, they were on the water.

 

After cutting the engine, Mick handed Jeremy a spare fishing rod (Jeremy was still amazed at how Mick was prepared for anything and everything), gestured to the tackle box, and said “Have at it.”

 

Jeremy looked at him blankly.

 

“Go on, show me what you’ve got.” Mick said encouragingly.

 

Jeremy idly plucked at the fishing line. “I... don’t know how to use one of these. I’ve seen it done, but, uh…” He reddened in embarrassment.

 

“Thought you said you knew how to fish.” Mick said, eyeing him skeptically.

 

“Well yeah, but I’ve done, like, spearfishing and stuff with nets.” He said honestly, turning the rod over in his hands and inspecting it. It was a deep sea rod, the sort that take an awful lot of force to snap. He’d seen enough people fishing in boats on the open water or from the boardwalk back home to know the general idea. But Jeremy had been catching his own dinner in traditional merfolk fashion since he was quite young.

 

Joining together with a few of his brothers to herd fish into nets underwater or pilfer lobsters and crabs from traps? Doable. Figuring out how the hell to use a fishing pole? Significantly less so.

 

Jeremy looked over at Mick expectantly.

 

Mick held in a sigh. He’d never considered himself a good teacher, he had always had difficulty explaining directions. But it couldn’t hurt to try, right?

 

Jeremy figured out how to bait a hook on his own, and narrowly avoided sticking the hook through his thumb.

 

Then came the actual tricky part. Once Jeremy was holding the rod properly, Mick carefully, with one hand on Jeremy’s lower back and the other on his upper arm, guided his upper body into a better position. It was a sort of awkward half-embrace from behind. He gently kicked Jeremy’s feet to get him into a good stance for casting.

 

Jeremy could feel himself melting, and not just because of the sun beating down on him. If he thought he was smitten before, feeling Mick’s gentle and innocuous touch drove him positively up the wall.

 

He had half a mind to spin around and kiss him.

 

But he didn’t. And instead waited for the ‘go ahead’ nod from Mick before casting the line exactly how he’d been instructed.

 

The hook landed in the water with a _plunk_ a respectable distance from the boat.

 

Jeremy looked at the little white and red bobber now so far off.

 

“So what happens now?” He asked.

 

Mick, now sitting on the boat’s little bench seat, shrugged. “Now you stay real quiet, and wait.”

 

Probably the two things Jeremy was the worst at.

 

But he took it in stride, and figured maybe it would impress Mick if he was super-duper patient and caught a super-duper impressive fish.

 

He stared out at the rolling waves and tried not to think about how warm and big Mick’s hands were and how nice it felt when…

 

Nope. He wasn’t going there now.

 

He was also trying not to think about how much his head was pounding and how parched his throat was and oh, he hadn’t put on sunblock, he was gonna be a lovely shade of boiled lobster red soon, wasn’t he?

 

And what if he couldn’t catch a stupid fish and just stood there all day for nothing? And what if Mick was disappointed in him, oh no, that would be the worst. Or what if--

 

“Jeremy, the line!” Mick called abruptly, pulling Jeremy from his thoughts. Mick was at his side in an instant, gesturing to the fishing rod about to fall out of Jeremy’s hands. Enthusiasm returning with a vengeance, Jeremy reeled in the line just a little faster than he should have.

 

But regardless, Jeremy grinned triumphantly as he landed a perhaps foot-long silverish greenish fish of indeterminate species. It looked up at him with a gasping mouth and unblinking eyes.

 

He frowned. It was hardly the catch he’d been hoping for. Well, it’d have to do.

 

“Not too bad.” Mick said with a nod.

 

“Thanks.” Jeremy smiled, maybe just a little bit proud. He carefully removed the hook from the fish’s mouth.

 

He then held the fish like it was a ballpark hotdog and got ready to take a bite, going straight for the head.

 

Before he could, Mick shouted and smacked the fish out of Jeremy’s hand. It landed back in the ocean from whence it came and swam away, dazed but not worse for wear.

 

So maybe humans didn’t eat live, raw fish.

 

The learning curve sure was fascinating.

 

“I wasn’t really gonna eat it.” Scout said, sulkily, a lie.

 

Mick seemed to believe him. “Don’t scare me like that. You could get sick or somethin’.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Jeremy apologized, head down.

 

A beat of silence.

 

“You know you could’ve sat down, right? You didn’t have to stand all that time.” Mick said, eyebrow raised.

 

Jeremy shrugged.

 

He paused. Did he really want to do this?

 

Yes, he did.

 

“Wanna see something wicked cool?” Jeremy asked with a cheeky grin.

 

Mick looked unsure.

 

Jeremy kicked off his flip-flops, shucked his shirt, and shimmied out of his shorts. Only his boxers stayed on.

 

“Mate…” Mick said, blushing fiercely, looking somewhere off to the side.

 

Jeremy stood on the little bench, right up against the side of the boat. “D’you trust me?” He asked, still grinning.

 

Mick exhaled sharply through his nose. He did. He knew he shouldn’t, but he did. “When you come back all sopping wet, you’re not gettin’ back in the camper until you’re dried off proper.” The little glint in his eye betrayed his stern tone.

 

“It’s a deal.” Jeremy laughed.

 

He made a big show of taking a deep breath and grabbing his nose to plug it, then pencil dove directly into the water.

 

He disappeared from sight immediately.

 

Jeremy wondered how long human lungs can hold air for.

 

Mick wondered the same thing for a different reason.

 

The water was cool and refreshing and rejuvenating and did wonders for Jeremy’s spirit. But he knew he wouldn’t have time to transform, and he wasn’t planning on it. He had something else in mind.

 

A few minutes later, Jeremy surfaced at the boat, much to Mick’s relief. He coughed up a bit of saltwater from his lungs.

 

Before he climbed back into the boat, Jeremy dumped six fish, identical to the one he’d attempted to eat earlier, onto the ground near Mick’s feet.

 

Jeremy’s toned chest was dripping with seawater and heaving from the exertion.

 

Mick looked from the small pile of flopping fish, to Jeremy’s bashful smile, to the ocean.

 

His grin was on lopsided. He almost didn’t care how Jeremy had caught the fish. Almost. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

 

Jeremy’s heart thumped in his ears. He surprised himself when his confidence didn’t falter, and he held Mick’s gaze. “You’re pretty special yourself.”

 

Mick, cheeks flushed, started up the boat.

 

It was so hot, Jeremy was air-dried and able to put his clothes back on before they reached shore.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

With the camper parked on more solid land, that evening they enjoyed a fish fry, and what wasn’t eaten ended up in the fridge for the next day.

 

Jeremy realized he liked cooked fish more than raw fish. Or maybe it was just because Mick made it.

 

It was late that night, however, as Jeremy lay sprawled on the couch and unable to sleep, that an idea occurred to him.

 

Since they were so near the ocean, he could sneak out, transform into his true self, splash around a bit and feel better, then transform into a human again and sneak back in. Easy peasy. He would start feeling better, and he’d be able to stay with Mick longer. An ideal situation.

 

The couch springs squeaked as he got up.

 

Mick stirred in his sleep.

 

From the faint moonlight streaming through the window, Jeremy could see the keys on the table. He could grab them, unlock the door, and be out in an instant.

 

Keys in hand, he tiptoed to the door. His hand was right on the door handle, when second thoughts hit him.

 

He’d only been human for what, a day and a half? He was not gonna cave and turn back at the first opportunity. He had six days until his body would start shutting down and the return to the ocean would be mandatory. He could tough it out. He had plenty of time. He could sneak out tomorrow. Or tomorrow’s tomorrow.

 

Jeremy gently dropped the keys back on the table.

 

Mick sat straight up like someone had set off a firecracker beneath his bed.

 

He hadn’t been kidding when he mentioned that thing last night about being a light sleeper.

 

His eyes strained to perceive Jeremy’s form in the darkness.

 

“Are you goin’ somewhere?” Mick asked in his sleep-roughened voice, barely awake and tone confused.

 

A pang of sudden guilt stabbed right in Jeremy’s chest.

 

“Nah”, he said softly, laying back down on the couch and pulling the blanket up over him, “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading this chapter! and thanks to everyone on discord for being wonderful and consistently making me laugh my ass off.  
> and I forgot to mention this earlier, but the song on the radio in chapter 1 is Heatwave by Martha and the Vandellas! 
> 
> <3 see you all for the next/last chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! pls leave kudos/comment if you're so inclined!
> 
> my tf2 tumblr is @teleported-bread if you wanna drop by and say hi
> 
> have a nice day! :)


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